Surviving the Customer Service Line at Bed Bath and Beyond- an Inner Monologue

Here’s the backstory- I had to go to Bed Bath and Beyond this Saturday for three things. THREE THINGS. One item was small and cost $30 so they put it away at the customer service desk and told me to pick it up when I was done shopping. Here are my thoughts in the longest line I have ever been in.

*Walks to front of store*

Huh. Why are there so many people just standing in line with their carts in front of the doors? That’s a fire hazard. 

Oh crap. That’s the line. 

This is chaos. There is no shape to this, just a pit of middle aged women in winter coats with shopping carts.

Is that old Asian woman in front or behind those ladies? Oh wait, I think she’s behind.


Oh good, a store worker is coming to put us in line. Maybe she can open another regis-nope, just making a line. 

This line has got to be at least 20 people. Let me count. Wait, that’s bad luck! Or is that just for counting a funeral procession? Irish superstitions are weird. 

*2 ladies telling the old Asian woman to get behind them*


Don’t worry old Asian, lady, I got your back! *Glares angrily at the 2 ladies.*

Ok, now there is order to this madness. I shall just stand here and die.

*woman asks if this is the line, I politely explain yes, it is the line. She is not holding anything and looks older and confused and nice. I shall call her old lady from Minnesota because she looks friendly.*

This lady isn’t holding anything and she came straight from outside. Is she confused? Does she think this is the line to start buying things? I want to ask, but I am not the line monitor. 

Why. Aren’t. We. Moving. 

Why are there only women in this line? Where are all the men? Why are there ZERO men here? …Are they smarter than us women standing in this God-forsaken line? WHY AM I TURNING ON MY OWN GENDER. WOMEN OF THE LINE, WE DO NOT HAVE TO ENDURE THIS SUFFERING, WE CAN SHOP ONLINE 2 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS LIKE OUR HUSBANDS AND FATHERS! IT DOESN’T HAVE TO BE THIS WAY!

Oh right. Non-expiring coupons. Damn you Bed Bath, damn you. 

I’m just going to rest my head here and-EW! CART GERMS! 

Oh God. This lady behind Minnesota is telling the world how she was in this line yesterday and now she is in it again for the same item. That doesn’t make you cool, lady, this isn’t a ride for a roller coaster, you are buying bed sheets. 

Ok- we’re moving a little. Wait, the lady who was at the register just came back! WE ARE GOING BACKWARDS!

*texts Andrew* Kiss the baby for me, I am never going to make it home. 

Moved one spot. Sweet. 

OH NO YOU DO NOT LET YOUR FRIEND IN, SHE WAS NOT HERE EARLIER. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Minnesota is getting on my nerves. Yes it is a long line. Stop saying that. 

Seriously. Why does it take so long? What are these people doing, registering for the store? I don’t understand. 

MY PHONE BATTERY IS LOW. IF MY PHONE DIES BEFORE I GET TO THE REGISTER I WILL HAVE A TODDLER-LIKE MELTDOWN. Sweet phone, please don’t make me have to talk to line people. 

I will seriously stare at a dead phone before talking to 2 times line lady. 

YES! Purple shirt store worker lady is back. She is taking souls to the other side of this river Styx. I hope she picks me!

Why. WHY did they make me put my item in customer service? It cost thirty dollars. I could have grabbed a china plate in the wedding dishes section and shoved it down my pants. Those cost at least $100. 

I SHOULD go steal some china plates. Bed Bath and Beyond deserves to be robbed for robbing me of my time. 

Maybe I shouldn’t steal. I’m a mom now, I should set an example.

Old Asian lady is getting restless. I don’t think she’s going to make it. 

I feel so bad for the register lady. She shouldn’t have to deal with hundreds of whiny ladies returning crap. I’m gonna say Merry Christmas to her when I leave. 

Caitlyn had better LOVE this stupid rolling pin. I’m gonna text her that. 

Damn it. That was dumb, now she knows one of her presents. Oh well, she probably won’t get it since I am GOING TO DIE IN THIS GOD FORSAKEN LINE!


The end.

See you in hell, Bed Bath and Beyond. See you in hell.  






6 Reasons Why Pumping Is the Worst

Pumping is the stupidest thing ever. I hate it. Hate it so much. If it wasn’t for the fact that there’s apparently a million benefits to breast milk for the baby and it’s given me the metabolism of a teenager, I’d take my Medela pump out back and throw it in the garbage.

I know breastfeeding and formula feeding each have their difficulties, but here are six reasons why pumping is the worst, and why I will be counting down the days until I can kiss these stupid pumps goodbye! (41 weeks if I make it to a full year).

1. Counting Ounces

The first problem with pumping milk for your baby is trying to figure out how much to give them. When I first started exclusively pumping, I acted like I was a god damn mathematician trying to figure out a complex equation. “If baby equals 2 weeks old and I pump out 3 ounces, how many ounces should I give her before a train comes and I jump on it and run away from home?” The benefit of breastfeeding straight from the boob is that while it is a big mystery of how much the baby is getting, which can be a bit stressful in making sure she has enough, you don’t have to guess how many ounces to put in the bottle. And while formula fed babies’ parents are going through the same calculations, throwing out an extra ounce of formula, while expensive, isn’t as painful as throwing out hard earned milk. Every time my baby finishes eating and leaves extra milk in the bottle, I revert to sounding like my own mom when I wouldn’t finish eating her meatloaf, “I slaved over a hot breast pump machine to make you a nice delicious meal and you are going to finish it!” but then I immediately relent as overfeeding is just a big of concern as underfeeding. While some babies will have very distinct cues as to when they are full (relaxed hands, turning away, simply stop drinking) some babies (such as my kid) would drink a 24oz bottle if you put it in front of them, leading to the over-obsession of portion control. Subtract the amount of hours you sleep to the calculation, and you have a day full of confusion.

2. Cleaning Bottles

How. HOW is it possible for one baby to take up the entire top rack of the dishwasher on a daily basis? With around 8 feedings a day in the first month, it makes sense for 8 bottles. But with a pumper, you have even more bottles to clean if you are pumping each boob at the same time. That’s math I can’t do! No matter how much I try to plan it out, at some point every day I am frantically loading the dishwasher while busting out the Medela quick steam bags just to get the next session in before my boobs explode. Which leads me to the next issue-

3. Boob Pain

When my husband asked me if it hurt to use the breast pump, I was apprehensive as to how to answer. Having gone through giving birth- the highest example of pain, it is hard to describe anything else as ‘painful.’ And while it’s not as sharp of a pain as having a human come out of your body, it is highly uncomfortable. What’s worse is that it is a pain that is scheduled multiple times throughout the day, so you know it is coming. By the time I reach for the pump dial at the end of the day, I am making the same sad baby face that my newborn makes every time the pacifier falls out of her mouth.

4. Milk Stains

I am constantly covered in milk, all day every day. No matter how many baby wipes, Kleenexes, and wash clothes I have within reach, I always manage to get milk drops on me and the surrounding area. Although it’s not a lot in quantity, it feels like someone just took out a gallon of milk from the fridge and dumped it all over the room. Actually, that would be preferred over human milk, which I don’t care how magical it is for baby, is definitely grosser to have spilled on you as opposed to pasteurized cow’s milk. Now I know why moms’ like taking baths so much- it is because for those brief moments they are not covered in milk.

5. Glued to the Pump

Before I got wise and splurged on a hands-free pumping bra, I was paralyzed for 15 minutes, 7 times a day in the first few weeks of my baby’s life because I had to hold two suction cups up to my boobs. I couldn’t even hold anything, unless I awkwardly did the one arm hold to keep both of the pumps in place, which never worked well and usually resulted in one falling off. The day I strapped on my pumping bra I felt like I could fly- or at least hold a book to read while I was sitting around pumping out milk. But even with two hands, you’re still glued to the pump for the duration, which when you are sitting there, feels like an eternity.

6. The Noise

A simple thought that constantly comes to mind while I am making nutritious meals for my child is, “WHY CAN THEY PUT A MAN ON THE MOON, BUT NO ONE THOUGHT TO MAKE A SILENT BREAST PUMP?!” The sound- which sounds something like a whiny dryer, is so freaking annoying. My pumping sessions would improve 60% if I didn’t have to listen to the constant whu-WHAA whu-WHAA whu-WHAA every time I turned on the pump. My biggest hope for my daughter is that when she is a mom the world has advanced enough to offer her a silent pumping machine so that she can sit happily with my granddaughter while she pumps. And for her to be happy and healthy and stuff. But mostly the silent pump thing.